The Last
by TellAllYourFriends
Summary: DH SPOILERS. As you sit alone with your sleeves rolled up, you stare at the mark upon your forearm.  You are the last Death Eater, although you can hardly even be considered one in the first place.
1. The Last Black

The Last Black

You stand alone in the hallway. It is the exact place you have stood so many times before. The floor creaked as you stepped on it. It is here that you are equidistant from the two rooms. Your room, which had become a sort of a haven to you, and his room which remains closed, sectioned off. You open his door, with a flick of your wand. You stare inside. So opposite they both are, yet so similar.

You take a step toward his and gaze around at the silver and green hangings from the walls. You glance at the picture of the Slytherin Quidditch team and he beams at you from the center. You smile as you think of the triumph you felt after beating him at the sport you both loved so dearly.

You sense movement behind you, and you whip around faced with and ugly, writhing face glaring at you with eyes as big as saucers. He mutters at you and you can't decipher what he has said but you know its not complimentary. He doesn't leave, but he merely stands holding on to the doorframe watching you. You turn to him and he speaks.

"What might you be doing in Master Regulus's room?" he asks, his voice surly.

"What's it to you?" you sneer back. He gives you a death glare and turns away continuing to mutter underneath his breath. You roll your eyes and walk out shutting the door. You lock it, just as he had done, the last time he left it. You look at the familiar sign he posted on the door, all those years ago. You feel a small smile play on your lips as you wonder what it would be like if he were here now. You shake your head, leaving your reverie and step slowly down the stairs.

You stop by your mother's portrait. The curtains have been drawn, covering her face. She is sleeping, sparing you from her obnoxious cries. You stop by old Phineas's portrait, which is deserted as it has been for ages. He doesn't like you because you were a Gryffindor.

Strange, you think, that you, last of the Blacks, were the only one not to be in Slytherin. Strange it is you standing here in this moment and not him. Or anyone else for that matter. Strange Bellatrix or Narcissa weren't born males, to carry on the family pride and name.

You are the last of the Blacks. It is up to you, as you have heard every day since you have returned to this place, to carry on the family name. It is up to you to carry on the family motto. Tojours Pur. You despise the words that your ancestors put so much faith in. You wonder if maybe there is another Black out there. A distant second cousin with a dozen or so offspring to help your duty.

You feel a strange feeling and cannot identify what it is. Guilt maybe? Guilt that you cannot carry out your purpose? Guilt that you have not passed on the genes that you had inherited from generation to generation? Yes, you realize. It is guilt that you are feeling, but how to halt these feelings to stop them from sweeping your mind and letting it trick you into doing something foolish, you do not know.

You think of your father now. How proud he was, to be who he was. How proud he was to serve pedigree, producing two healthy boys. But little did he know, things did not turn out like he had hoped. His eldest became a traitor, though not on purpose at first, but he began to provoke those feelings of dislike as the years went on, culminating it until he ran away. His last hope was the younger. Though, the younger had shown all the devotion and pride the elder hadn't, the younger fell to corruption enduring a cruel twist of fate, which couldn't be stopped.

And you are the last. Traitor or not, the fate of the family crest now rests upon your shoulders. Yet you have realized its fate, by now. You know your true destiny. The name will fall into shadow and disintegrate adding to the list of extinct pure bloodlines. This will raise further resentment from cruel people, such as Bellatrix, but that will come either way.

You are the last Black. After you, Tojours Pur will only be a phrase. It will become a piece of history and soon forgotten. And that guilt will befall and rest upon you, the last Black.

A/n: This is going to be a series of one-shots all revolving around the last of something. Should be fun!! Please review!


	2. The Last Marauder

The Last Marauder

You remember the day. You sat alone with a fire blazing before you. You stared into it with not a single thought running through your mind. You were at a loss for thinking. You had already drained your third glass of firewhiskey, but you didn't feel any better. Why did he have to go? you finally think to yourself. Why couldn't it have been you instead? You who had nothing to live for. You who had no purpose.

But with his death, came your purpose. Although you pushed it away, it came back. You remember the way she looked at you, that night, with longing in her eyes. You had it to, perhaps more. You weren't sure if it was the effects from the firewhiskey, but that night you couldn't keep yourself from her. She came to see if you were all right. You needed her and she sensed the yearning in your eyes. You kissed her that night, and it was unlike anything you had ever experienced before. It felt more than magical.

The feeling of a purpose scared you. You had never had someone to care for before. She wanted to be with you. But you knew it couldn't work. You were a werewolf. You pushed her away, but she came back every time. You married her finally, but it felt so wrong to you. It wasn't what you wanted for her. She was young, beautiful, talented. She could have any wizard she wanted, and she chose you.

She _chose_ you, out of her own heart, which was something you failed to see. You didn't understand what it was like to love and be loved. But she helped you figure those things out and realize that it didn't matter to her what you were or how old you were. All that mattered to her was that she had you.

And you remember the day she found out she was pregnant. She looked radiant that day, you remember. Yet when she told you, you felt a wave of coldness wash over you. A child? You, a father? It didn't make sense. It couldn't be. You were a _werewolf_. Werewolves didn't have babies. What if something was wrong with him? What if he would be teased by his peers? All these things you didn't want for him. All these things were what happened to you and you couldn't bear to let them happen to your son. So you left that night, with fear in your heart.

How strange it is that the young and restless can be so wise, sometimes. How strange it is that they know what is best for us, when we don't. You returned later that evening feeling raged, but when you saw her smile up at you it all melted away. Harry Potter had been right.

Yet your fears still haunted your dreams. What kind of life would he lead? What if he inherited your problem? What would he do when he walked into a room and people started howling at him? What if no one would be his friend?

These had been the exact same thoughts you had for yourself many years ago. But you found friends. You found a group of people who were understanding of your secret. You found a group of people who would care for you. These became the happiest years of your life, as you look back on it. Friendship would last forever. That would be the first lesson you teach him.

You smiled when you think of them. Your friends. You missed them dearly. And suddenly as you thought of them, you felt a pain in your heart and felt like something had been ripped away from your soul. You realized that you were the last Marauder. You somehow realized that Peter was gone and hopes for forgiving him one day were lost forever. You were the last Marauder. James, Sirius and Peter were now gone, leaving you alone.

Your friends. The friends who loved you and who you loved. Your heart felt empty. As you looked next to you, your wife gave you a concerned look. You smiled at her and rubbed a hand gently over her stomach. You kissed that little lump that had begun to form and thought that someday in the future he would become a Marauder and experience similar moments that you had enjoyed so long ago.

And if that happened you would no longer be the last Marauder.


	3. The Last Horcrux

The Last Horcrux

You hiss angrily as your writhe all around your enclosure. He tells you it has to be like this. But you are furious. You despise being caged up like some kind of pet. You are not a pet. You are a powerful, dangerous creature of the dark. You hiss angrily again at him but he takes no notice this time. He is interrogating a man with greasy black hair and beady black eyes.

Finally he hisses your name and you feel hunger and terror wash over you as you bite the body that lay before you. You snap at it viciously tasting the blood in your mouth. It is sweet to your tongue, but you are soon pulled away. You snap angrily at him, but he holds a hand to you to stop. You hiss at him, furious. You are forced to follow as he walks away. He is barking loud into the night, using the voice you are unable to understand.

He continues to walk into the forest and you float caged up beside him. Anger begins to build up inside you as you thrash around your cage trying to tear out of what encloses you. Finally he stops walking. The others come and you give each one of them death stares but they don't look at you, they never have. You arise a fear in them that they cannot handle.

After what feels like hours the boy you had tried to kill finally appears. He wears a fearless expression and you hiss at him violently to try and wash it away. He does not seem to notice. Your master stands up and holds the wand out to him and with a flash of green light both of them are on the floor. You hit the ground as well and you slither quickly over to him. The others are silent. The woman with long black hair rushes over to his side bending next to him. You snap at her and she backs away. You see his eyes open and he gets to his feet. You slither up upon his shoulders as he has one of the others check his pulse. Laughter precedes this and everyone makes their way out of the forest.

Once out of the forest, and in front of the school he begins to speak loudly again but you cannot understand. You know he is happy and his glee fills you up as well. He will be rewarding you soon, you think as you see people coming out of the two oak doors. Hunger rushes through your veins as you size each person up, trying to sense which one tastes better. You stay upon his shoulders maintaining your stance as chaos erupts. You wriggle around snapping ferociously at the fresh meat that stands before you.

And all in one flash you see it. You see your death coming before you and you watch your life pass you by. You cannot die. You hold the most important treasure of all. Inside you is him. The only master you cared for, the only one you loved. You cannot die. Once you die, everything will crumble after you. You hiss for help as you see that wretched hat in flames slowly die away but nothing comes out.

The silver, shining sword of Godric Gryffindor has already pierced you. You feel detached from your body as the two separate pieces of you fall to the ground with a large thud. The last thing you hear is the angered cry your master gives upon your death. And for a moment you think he actually cared about you. That feeling washes away soon as you are now looking down upon the scene.

He didn't care for you, Nagini, the serpent who loved him dearly. He cared for you the snake, the last living Horcrux that held a piece of his soul.

And with the last Horcrux finally out of the way, you feel his death coming. You are not sad for this, for he deserved it. You were his. You did what he wanted. You obeyed him obediently. But you were the last Horcrux, and nothing else. He saw nothing else in you.

A/n: This was really strange to write because I've never done anything like it before. I hope it portrayed well. Please review!


	4. The Last Twin

The Last Twin

You curse him under your breath. He left you with all this mess. He left you alone to deal with it. You are angry at him. You are angry at him for not helping you, for leaving, for dying. You groan in frustration as you sit in front of a table loaded with paperwork that needed to be filled out. Why did he have to go? You two were a pair. Pairs were not supposed to be separated. Pairs were supposed to stay together.

But he's gone now. He's gone and he's not coming back. You sigh and stand up walking into the main shop. There is a small layer of dust as nobody has been in here for a while. You pick up a Pygmy Puff that bounces happily in its box. You smile and think of the day you two thought of it. You set it back where it was as a wave of sadness washes over you. You expect him to come rushing into the doorway telling you of a brilliant idea he had just thought of while using the loo.

You shake your head and walk back into the office. You want to reopen the shop again. You know he would have wanted you to. But you don't know if you can, without him by your side. He was your brother. Your twin. Your friend. Life without him just seems so… so pointless. Why did it have to be him? There were so many other people out there who were alone living on the streets. They were barely living if that, even. Why did it have to be a man whose family cared for him so much? Why did it have to be a man who had so much left to do in his life?

Many other innocent people died that night. This you know. But none of them were he. None of them could take a missing ear and make a joke of it, like he could. How much you are going to miss his laugh, or his smile, you do not know. But you see it everywhere; you hear it all the time. It stares back at you when you look at yourself in a mirror. It's a cold face and the light has gone out of his eyes.

There is no point of living anymore, you think. Not without him. You don't want to make a joke if he can't be there to laugh at it. You don't want to start a sentence if he can't be there to finish it.

What would he say of you this moment, if he saw you? You ponder this for a few moments when it hits you. He wouldn't want you to be miserable. He wouldn't. He'd want you to continue the shop. He'd want you to move on with your life. You know he wouldn't be angry with you if you did. You know he'd be happy to see you happy. And he'd be laughing when he saw you laughing, just you wouldn't be able to see him laughing.

With this you feel a sense of renewal. He'd be proud of you, you think, for doing this. You take out a quill and a piece of parchment and begin to write a letter.

"Hey Perce, its George. I feel so lonely in this shop, and since you don't want to keep working at the Ministry, why don't you come down here, and work with me? Owl me back. –George."

Putting your quill down, you sit back and take a look at your work. You smile to yourself and you hope he responds with agreement. You need someone right now. You need your family. You sigh and send it off with an owl. But this will confirm it, you think. This will confirm that he will not be coming back.

Now you will only see yourself in a mirror. You will not see your face smiling back at you when you make a comment about Mum's cooking. You will no longer hear your voice give pointless suggestions when Ron asks for your help when he has girl problems. You will no longer be a twin. You frown upon this thought as you stare at yourself staring back. He's not coming back. You are the last twin.


	5. The Last Sacrifice

The Last Sacrifice

"Tell me about the war, Daddy," she says with wide, innocent eyes. You smile down her and stroke her hair.

"Another night," you reply, giving her a kiss and closing her door.

A few nights later this same scene will replay and you will tell her another night. You do not want to poison her innocent thoughts about the troubles and pains you had endured all those years ago. It was different times, back then, then it is now. You were different back then.

You haven't thought about that day in ages. When you think of it now you think not of triumph but of death. The sheer number of innocent people sacrificed their lives for the culmination of evil. So many innocent people. You feel sad now as you see bodies on the floor behind your eyelids. You feel guilt. All these death were caused because of you. If only you could have stopped it sooner. If only you could have realized where the last Horcrux was. If only… If only…

_The pain will go away._ _It wasn't your fault. They did it to save their families. It wasn't because of you._

But the pain hadn't gone away. It still haunts you to this day. But what could you have changed? What could you have done differently to change the fate of those innocent people? They knew what they were getting into, didn't they? They knew what was bound to happen.

You shun yourself for thinking those thoughts. It wasn't _their_ fault, they died. It was yours, and you know it.

But you had _tried_ to save them. You had given yourself up. You had handed yourself over to stop the terrible deaths from occurring. If you hadn't it would have continued and progressed killing who knows how many more. You sacrificed yourself for the future generations.

This is the war that has been going on in your head ever since then. This is the fight that takes place in your mind as you watch your children grow older each day. And it rages worse every time you see your godson. You know what its like not to have your parents. You've grown up without the love and care that you had yearned for for so many years. How unfair that this innocent child will never see the two people who could love him more than anything else in this world. How cruel is it to watch him grow up raised by someone else and not the two people who brought him here.

You think of the two bodies lying together on the ground. You think of the happiness in his face when he told you he had a son. You think of the joy in her face when she showed off her wedding ring. The thought that you will never see then again burns in your mind and you become angry that you let this happen. Why did they have to go? Why them?

But you know why, you do. That is the inevitable war between good and evil that will last for all eternity. That is the burden that some of us take on when we enter the universe. That sacrifices must be made to have peace. And a sacrifice is not a sacrifice unless the person who died had been loved and honored. These are the things you tell yourself as you ease your mind from their images.

You were a sacrifice. You sacrificed yourself. How cruel was it that you came back into the world. How cruel that you could return and the others couldn't. You embraced death. You let it wash over you and take hold, without fearing the consequences. You knew what had to be done. And perhaps they did as well. Perhaps we all will in the end, so as to make sure we do not die in vain. They were valiant heroes and you will honor their souls until the day you pass on. You will honor them, as they honor you.

For you were the last sacrifice. You were the last one to give yourself up and preserve a fragment of good in the air. And although you did not join them where they stand now, you continue their legacy and fulfill the dreams they never had a chance to achieve. You do them that honor by living well, and by not regretting your actions that destroyed evil. Because you were the last sacrifice.

A/n: Don't like this one much. Its hard writing from Harry's POV. I've never done it before.. Also I have about five more ideas for chapters but if anyone has any feel free to suggest!


	6. The Last Dumbledore

The Last Dumbledore

Finally, it has happened. A single tear streams down your cheek. It is over. He is gone. He is gone forever. You will never see him again. You will never speak to him again. He will never explain things to you again. He will never tell you his opinion of you again. And these are the things you will miss. Because no matter how much anger you had towards him, he was still your brother, your kin. It is strange that you yearn for his opinion now. It is strange that now that you cannot have his thoughts on the matter you want them. Would he think you are being rational? Would he think you are being unfair to him, now as the thoughts pass through your brain?

You stare into her portrait and she stares back. Her blue eyes, so young, so kind, so innocent. Sadness overcomes you and you turn away. It was his fault, you think. It was his own fault. He should have seen that wretched monster for what he really was. He should have taken care of her, like he took care of himself. She was his sister. His _sister_.

You grunt as you turn away trying to push him from your mind. But now, your mother pops into your head and you know she would not want you to be angry and hold a grudge against him. She always wanted to keep the family together. She always wanted everyone to get along. She cared for her like no other. She brought her anything and everything she needed. To bad he couldn't do that and wouldn't let you do that. But you don't want to think of him right now so you push him out of your mind.

Now your thoughts linger on your father and the revenge he had executed against those filthy, scumbag muggles. Your anger towards them has diminished slightly over the years. Not all of them are bad but now your guard is up when meet a muggle-born. Your father was punished for justice. You despise the Ministry, you always have. They're always lying and hiding the truth, filling the world with corruption.

Albus was never like you. He was always so different. He was more _normal_. He never wanted to be associated with you. You started to grow hatred toward him during your time with him at Hogwarts. And when your mother died and he was forced to abandon his trip with Doge and stay home with Ariana you told him just to leave. You told him you'd stay with her. You'd protect her. She'd want you, not him. You'd take good care of her.

But no. 'The education you receive now defines your actions in the future.' Education? Education? You didn't need education. For heaven's sake you grew up to own an inn. What kind of education did he think you'd get? He thought you'd be just like he was. He thought you'd cherish it. But all you did was worry about your sister. She was not well that last summer, when you returned. She was not well at all.

Sadness, anger and rage wash over you when you think of that day. How could that have happened? How could he have let that happen? How could you have let that happen, to her? It was your fault. You know this. You should have just left them alone to do whatever intellectual things they liked to do. You should have just stayed at her side and let them change the world. It would have kept her alive a little bit longer. You curse under your breath as the breeze lifts your hair.

You were both overcome by guilt. You showed his in the grudge you held against him. He showed his through his accomplishments to make this a better place. What a load of tripe it was when he became a teacher. He could have been Minister of Magic! The youngest of all time! And he chose to go to a stupid school teaching stupid children that would one day "change the world" like he did. What a load of bullocks.

You are now standing close to the school watching the hundreds of people who have gathered in his memory. Potter sits in the front. You remember how fond he was of that boy. The merpeople begin to sing and the centaurs shoot arrows over his tomb. He is gone now. He has left forever. You knew this day would come eventually, but you didn't think this soon. He still had enemies to defeat, he still had students to teach, he still had inventions to discover. And after this realization, you feel you can finally let go of the mistake he made so long ago. You feel he made up for it. All the things he did, Ariana would have enjoyed them. You know he did them for her.

As you watch the dirt rise up and fill the hole where he will rest, you think, _I am the last Dumbledore and I shouldn't be._ He should be standing here right now and you should be in the grave. You have never done anything in your life. But you know if he heard you say this, he would say that you have done great things, and those that are even greater that you will do will happen soon. He'd tell you to be ready for it because you, you are the last Dumbledore.


	7. The Last Death Eater

The Last Death Eater

It is summer and burning hot outside but you are wearing long black-sleeved robes nonetheless. For beneath these long robes is your true self. The mark upon your arm humiliates you and you wish you had never been branded. Though at the time it was thrilling now it has just become an embarrassment. You have never slipped up; your forearms are always covered. You never plan on showing it ever again. But when you strip down to bathe yourself it haunts you and stares back at you like it is watching your every move. An anxiety washes over you when you see it contrasting with the lightness of your skin.

Occasionally you think you see the snake wiggle a little and occasionally you feel it prickle. You do not know what this means but you think it is the death of another with the same mark that bonds together. It has slowly diminished over the years and faded slightly, but it still haunts you and you know even if it was completely gone, you would steal feel it sere into your skin.

It has been many, many years since the Dark Lord fell. You and your family were given a lasting reprieve and were not sentenced to Azkaban. Your mother still dwells in the manor where you grew up and where it hosted the misdoings of the Dark Lord. Your father passed away some time ago. That was the last time you felt any sensation in your forearm. After that you merely felt an illusion of pain, which you know now, was probably in your head.

You fear that you are the last one. You fear that there is no one else that shares your bond to an evil you wish you had never been apart of. They have all died out, leaving you to suffer in grief. You think of the number of lives that were lost on account of your desire for the pride you thought would make you happy. You think of all those innocent people. How could you have been that foolish? Was it all a yearning for happiness that made you so keen to kill and so bloodthirsty.

You were never a killer, though. That was not you. You had always thought of yourself as a merciful person. You did not kill anyone, either. So why must you suffer this immense guilt while the others who followed through with their actions roam consequence-free up in the heavens? But then you realize they are probably not there in the heavens. You imagine their flesh burning at Hell's wrath. You hear their screams for mercy. Perhaps it is better, what you are going through now.

You are married now and have a son. You pray that he will never have the choice to decide what is right and what is wrong. You do not want him to make the same foolish mistake that you made all those years ago. You were young. You didn't know any better. All your life you had been told that the time would come where you must prove where your loyalties will lie. You chose the easy way, you realize now. If you had chosen the hard way, you don't know where you would be right now. Maybe it paid off, maybe it didn't.

Nevertheless, you know the absence of this decision in the span of his life is inevitable. You pray that he will have the courage to choose the right thing and keep from being bound to ties that he does not want. But you do not know this will happen as he has already shown tendencies you had when you were young. But you did not have the choice that he will be presented with now. If you had chosen anything different than what you did you would have been abandoned with nowhere to turn because every family member every friend was tied down to the same thing that you did not want to be part of. But that choice, you realize, had to be made as it was.

You are the last of your kind. You are the last of the merciless killing machines that roamed for that long time span. Yet you did not commit any crime. You did not take part in any murder or torture that they had. It's unfair, you think, that you must be labeled one of them even though you never acted. But life isn't fair.

As you sit alone with your sleeves rolled up, you stare at the mark upon your forearm. You see it fall a shade lighter on your skin, but you are not sure if it is merely your tired eyes or a trick of the dim light around you. No one else has this, so you will never be able to check. You are the last Death Eater, although you can hardly even be considered one in the first place.

A/n: I'm really happy with how this one turned out! Hope you guys like it just the same!


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